


These Words Are Knives That Often Leave Scars

by icebucky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Cas has wings, Circus, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Wings, aerial dancing, dean is an aerial dancer, human!Cas, physical angel wings, sideshow freaks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebucky/pseuds/icebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Singer and Sons is a distinguished circus that has been touring the United States for three generations now, and prides itself on being a business that treats everyone like a human being, no matter their backstory or appearance.</p>
<p>Dean Winchester and his brother Sam were raised in this environment, after leaving their home in the dead of night to pursue a new life. While Sam has taken the time to live his own life and pursue love, Dean takes his aerial dancing act more seriously than anything he encounters.</p>
<p>Enter Castiel Novak, who was born with wings sprouting out of his shoulder blades, who has never had a place to call his own or people who saw him as anything more than a freak.</p>
<p>When Bobby Singer sets the two up to work the silks together, it seems unlikely that they could be anything more than co-performers, but an unexpected friendship blooms, followed by something deeper and more dangerous and ambitious, in which Dean and Castiel realize that it's not appearances that make a person, but more the experiences that the costumes hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a circus AU mainly set in the year 1905. It's somewhat steampunk, I guess, at least, that's what I envision when I was writing this. I'm really excited about this story, and I hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3 and sorry about the super long summary.

It was no surprise to Dean when they ended up traveling in the circus.

His mom had died when he was four, and his dad had kind of been a deadbeat since then, but really, letting your kids run off to join a troupe of country crossing carnies wasn't anywhere close to what he thought a father should be like.

But Sammy had wanted to, he had looked up at Dean with those big eyes and just  _pleaded_ , and no, Dean had tried to convince himself that no, this wasn't what they should do, but he couldn't hold out against his little brother's puppy eyes for long.

The year was 1889, and Dean was ten years old when they sneaked into the tents at night. Dad was passed out drunk on the couch of their ramshackle apartment in Lawrence, and Dean knew that he wouldn't wake up for at least twelve hours. He probably wouldn't even miss them. So he grabbed Sam's hand and pulled him out of the window, both of them toting the duffel bags that held everything they owned over their shoulders.

It was a hot summer night, one with a faint breeze making the trees sway back and forth, scattering shadows across the stars. Dean knew the way to the tents; he and Sammy had gotten in for free earlier. Apparently, kids always did, but Dean suspected from the way that the man running the ticket stand had winked at them that he knew they couldn't afford a ticket anyway.

Gripping his little brother's hand, Dean wove his way through the shadowy tents, Sam's nails digging into his palm. They didn't have a plan. The only vague idea that Dean had was to hide in a crate or something until they made it to the next town; the circus was due to depart the next day. Sam's breathing sped up as they saw a light ahead and his grip on Dean's hand became painful. The older boy stopped and turned to his brother.

"Sammy." Sam's eyes were huge as he craned his neck to look past Dean and stare at the ahead light. "Sammy, look at me," Dean whispered, and his brother's eyes slid back to his face. "It's gonna be okay," he said, ruffling the six-year-old's hair. "You and me, we're gonna get out of here, okay? It's gonna be okay, Sammy."

Sam nodded, silent, but his face relaxed marginally and Dean could tell that the encouragement had made a difference.

"Okay," Dean said, loosening Sam's hold on him. "Let's go, then."

They made it a little farther into the maze of tents before voices ahead, heading in their direction, startled Dean into pulling Sammy back, shrinking against the side of a tent. He stepped too far back and stumbled inside, Sam falling to the ground next to him in the sudden light of the interior.

Dean froze.

After a while, a man's gruff voice said, "Well? You gonna stay there, or are you gonna introduce yourself? Stand up, boy."

Dean scrambled to his feet, grabbing his little brother by the arms and yanking him up as well. The man sitting in front of him was older, tired looking, with a scruffy beard and a hat wedged firmly on his head, even though he was inside. He was wearing a suit with the jacket gone, the bow tie undone, and the sleeves rumpled. Young as he was, Dean could tell that this man had just gone through a hard day.

"I, uh..." Dean shuffled his feet a little, glancing at Sammy. "I'm Dean, and this is my little brother, Sam."

"Dean and Sam," the man repeated, the corners of his mouth twitching up a little bit, which Dean found reassuring. "You boys have last names?"

"Winchester," Sam piped up, still holding Dean's hand tightly. "Our last name's Winchester."

The man smiled fully and stood, coming around the desk to crouch down in front of them. Dean always kind of hated it when adults did that, but he didn't mind this time. "Well, you two, you wanna join the circus?"

Sam looked up at Dean, his eyes huge, and nodded frantically. Dean answered for the both of them, saying, "Yes, sir."

The man nodded. "Good. We could use boys like you. My name's Bobby Singer. I'm gonna watch out for you." He stood and led the way to the entrance of the tent, holding the flap open for the brothers. "Now come on, let's get you settled in."


	2. Chapter 2

_Sixteen years later..._

Castiel Novak stared up at the royal purple tent in front of him, its towering peaks rising to blot out the pale blue sky. It was June of 1905, and the twenty-four year old had given up on finding any semblance of normalcy in his life. Castiel had long since resigned himself to the fact that the freak show was the only place for him.

He glanced sideways at his brother Gabriel, who was shuffling the loaded deck of cards casually in his hands, leaning against the lamp post across the street from the circus. He wasn't bothering to hide the abominations that sprouted from his back, their caramel colored feathers rustling in the wind. Castiel blushed and ducked his head when a woman passed them, her eyes widening as she took in Gabe's wings.

He didn't seem to notice her shocked expression, he just tilted his head sideways as she passed to get a better look at her figure. Gabriel let out a low whistle, and Castiel tried not to be scandalized. "Gabriel," he said softly, drawing his brother's attention back to him. "Don't."

Gabe pouted. "You're no fun, Castiel," he whined, shouldering his bag and wiggling his right wing so that the strap wouldn't cut into it. "Come on, let's go."

The two young men crossed the street, Gabe leading his way and Castiel following closely behind, looking at the ground and attempting to go unnoticed. He and his brother shouldered their way through the crowd and Gabe murmured something to the man at the ticket booth that Castiel didn't hear, but either way, the velvet rope was unclasped and they were allowed in.

He followed Gabriel, who was navigating his way around this place as though he had been here for years, but Castiel knew that this was the first time that either of them had been here. Gabe walked with confidence, heading towards the back of the park, towards the smaller and less flamboyant tents that seemed to have a more personal touch. Castiel couldn't help but feel that he was intruding on the performer's territory, that they were going to get stopped at any moment and thrown out, but nothing happened. Gabriel kept walking and they weren't stopped, at least not until they rounded a corner and encountered the first person that actually worked here.

Gabriel stopped suddenly, throwing out an arm to make sure that Castiel didn't move any farther forward. Castiel's brow wrinkled with irritation for a moment, but when he registered his brother's reasoning, he was glad for that extra barrier.

The man standing in front of them was huge, about six and a half feet tall and built with broad shoulders, strong arms, and a thick chest. He had brown hair that went to just above his shoulders, and he was wearing surprisingly normal clothes. Castiel wasn't sure what he was expecting, something with stars and swirling colors and shining tight fabrics, but the man was dressed in a pair of black pants, black laced up boots, and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. A thick leather belt was buckled around his waist, and now Castiel understood why Gabriel had stopped him, because the belt was full of knives.

He cut the brothers a sidelong glance, the blade in his hand winking in the sun as he wiggled it slightly. "Can I help you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and, without even looking, sending the knife flying into a target about twenty feet from him. It hit the exact center of the bullseye.

Castiel was impressed, and apparently it showed on his face. The man's eyes slid to his face and he grinned, his smile wide and open, making him seem so much more approachable. Gabriel cut in, saying, "Hi, I'm Gabriel Novak, and this is my brother Castiel. Who can we talk to about a job?"

The man slid the five or so knives in his left hand back into his belt and began walking over to retrieve the others out of the target. Castiel could see that it was a well-used target judging from the slits in it and the worn fabric.

"I'm Sam," he said, coming towards them and extending his hand for the brothers to shake. Gabriel took it easily, but Castiel stared at it for a minute, not comprehending, and Sam's hand hung there in the air, hovering close to Castiel without wavering. It took him a minute; he didn't realize what Sam's hand was doing there until it was getting awkward. He glanced up into the taller man's face; Sam swallowed nervously and almost retracted his hand, but Castiel reached out and grasped it firmly.

"Sorry," he muttered, glancing down at the ground. "It's not usual to be treated like a person."

Sam's eyebrows twitched and he tilted his head a little, but he shook Castiel's hand firmly and then let go. "So, what can you guys do?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Uh," Castiel said, glancing at Gabe, who nodded and directed his attention back to Sam.

"Oh, Cassie and I are both sideshow freaks. But I possess some minimal skills in the art of magic and deception, and Castiel is surprisingly flexible." Sam nodded, frowning a little.

"Do you..." he began. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but... can I see it? The thing that makes you think you're freaks." Castiel noticed that he said  _makes you think_ , which warmed his insides a little bit. Sam didn't think they were freaks. Sam accepted them for who they were.

Maybe it was Sam's warmth, maybe it was the fact that he was feeling a little bolder in this new environment, maybe it was because Gabe was talking too much, Castiel didn't know. Either way, he didn't speak, but stretched his wings out from the shoulders and expanded them to their full length, the wingspan being about three times the size of his entire body. Not many people saw them, and they were simple enough that they could pass as a coat or something, but when they were open, Castiel knew that if they weren't on a human then they would be beautiful. They were huge and feathered and an inky black that seemed basic from far away, but in taking a closer look, you could see that they were mottled and swirled and as complex as the night sky. His flight feathers were speckled with traces of white and grey, with a few spots of blue laced in there as well, and his wings were a pattern and a reflection of him, of his silence and his fear and his serenity in his place in the world. Sam's jaw dropped as he stared, but he wasn't disgusted, he wasn't terrified, his face was awestruck, and he was enthralled. Slowly, slowly, a grin started to break out on his face and his hands jumped to his hair, running through it and tugging.

"Wow," he breathed after a moment, almost completely silent. " _Wow..._ Castiel, that's... that's beautiful."

Castiel ducked his head, embarrassed, and folded his wings against his back again, relishing the feel of the wind ruffling the tiny feathers on his joints. He couldn't keep them open for long, and it had been a long time since he had done that (he knew from experience that it was a very bad idea to spread one's wings indoors), and someone might see. Someone could walk by at any moment and see and that would be bad, because it would ruin the show.

" _Wow,_ " Sam said again, regaining control over himself. "Uh, so you're gonna want to talk to Bobby. You'll get a job, I can guarantee it. If he doesn't give it to you on the spot, I'll talk him around. Come on, his tent is this way."

Sam picked up a bag that was on the ground next to him and headed off, waving for the brothers to follow him. Gabe punched Castiel lightly on the shoulder, saying affectionately, "Nice job, Cassie. I didn't think you'd be up for that."

"I'm not a child anymore, Gabriel. I know how to win over an audience."

"Course you do, Castiel," his brother responded easily, and they walked after Sam.

Sam led them to a simple, clean, and well-kept tent. He stopped outside of it and prevented the brothers from entering, holding out an arm. "Okay, quick backstory. Bobby owns the circus. He's the son of the 'son' in  _Singer and Sons_. He's kind of... irascible. But he's a good man. Trust me, he raised me from when I was six." Sam paused, about to say something, but choked on it it and changed his mind. "Just... make a good impression. You guys can do it."

He pushed open the tent flap and led them inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Sam is here. Yes, Gabe is here too. No, I don't ship Sabriel. I don't have a problem with it, but I just don't personally ship it, so I'm not going to include it. Sorry! :/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your convenience, here's a link to the fanart that inspired Dean's costume.
> 
> https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSmlljIUlsH9cCkTbw3gl629YSZHcO1byRITmLv9kcrQ2j3r8ds
> 
> I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

The tent, contrary to Sam's expectations, did not contain only Bobby.

He cringed as he poked his head through the flap, recognizing his brother's angry tones, contrasting sharply with... damn. Ruby. Of course, Dean hated her more than he hated Crowley, which was a surprising amount.

"She's fucking up my act, Bobby, I can't  _work_  like this!" Dean was complaining, throwing his hands around dramatically, still in his tight stage clothes. At his desk, Bobby's head was in his hand, and he was rubbing his forehead tiredly. On the opposite side of the room, Ruby's arms and legs were crossed tightly, her dark curls cascading over one shoulder and the frankly scandalous tight pants she was wearing screaming at Sam from his spot in the doorway. He knew that she and Meg wore those only when they were performing, and the rest of the time they dressed like decent human beings, but there was something about it that made him feel guilty.

"It's not my fault that you can't work while I do," she retorted sharply, cutting Dean a piercing glare. "You and your precious silks can go dance off to another show, princess. It doesn't bother me."

"I'd be fine if you'd just keep your cats out of the ring while I'm dipping!"

"Time your act better!"

"You have no idea how hard that is!"

"I'm dealing with  _live, carnivorous animals_ , Dean, do you have any idea how hard  _that_ is?"

"You -" Dean began to reply angrily, but Bobby raised a hand and they both fell silent.

"Both of you, stop." The two young performers sitting in front of him froze, looking at his face and waiting for the verdict. "Ruby, are the cats good enough to practice outside of the ring?"

"Almost," she said bitterly, shooting a glance at Dean. "We'd be ready sooner if someone would untwist his panties."

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but Bobby shut him up with a look. "Dean, give Ruby another hour. Then you can practice your silks for the show tonight. It's not like you need the practice anyway, you treat this like a damn religion."

Dean huffed and sat back in his seat, while Ruby smirked and stood. "Thanks, Bobby," she said, sauntering towards the door. When she caught sight of Sam, she grinned and ran her eyes over him in an almost predatory way, slapping his ass and saying, "How you doing, sweet cheeks?" and walking off before waiting for a response.

Before his brother could say anything else, Sam cleared his throat from the door. "Hey, uh, Bobby? I got some new meat in to see you."

"Send 'em in, Sam. And Dean, get outta that chair and give it to the new kids." Dean pouted, but he walked over to lean against Bobby's massive bookshelf, crossing his arms and grumbling as Sam walked in to join him.

"Bobby, these are the Novak brothers, Castiel and Gabriel, and guys, this is Mr. Robert Singer, owner of the circus."

As they entered that room, Castiel let his eyes wander around to everything that was in there, which was his first mistake.

In that interview, he made a total of five huge mistakes.

He let his eyes wander, which took him from the bookshelf to the desk to the man sitting behind the desk to the roof to Sam to the rug on the floor to Gabe and then, finally, to the man leaning against the second, more cluttered bookshelf.

Castiel's second mistake was letting his eyes wander over that man. His left hip was pressed into a shelf and his arms were crossed, his eyes narrowed like he had just had something important taken from him. He was shorter than Sam, but taller than Castiel, and his face was peppered by a spray of freckles. He had short hair that did whatever it wanted in the front, but was close cropped around the rest of his head, and his frankly incredible green eyes were framed by fierce, determined eyebrows. Castiel wanted to spend an hour poring over his face, those eyes held so much emotion and his slightly feminine mouth was twisted in a position that made something in Castiel tingle.

But the worst part, the absolute worst, was his outfit.

It was tight, sinfully so, displaying every bold curve of his muscles and hard plane of his limbs. The blue and white swirls and spots only danced up to his waist, fading out in a twirling spark around the bottoms of his shoulder blades on his back and dipping down to the tops of his feet in tiny white circles. It was graceful and delicate, but bold enough that it screamed of his authority in his position; he knew who he was and he knew what he was here to do. There was no shirt, and his arms were crossed across his bare chest, making the tips of Castiel's ears burn as he attempted to stop himself from looking. He didn't want to stare, but he didn't want redirect his eyes, oh, he wanted to take it in and stare at the work of art, this song made human.

The man's eyes slid over him without any flicker of emotion, and Castiel's third mistake was allowing himself to feel a little disappointed.

"Damn," Castiel whispered, tearing his eyes away from the performer, and Gabriel flicked his attention away from their future employer and back to his little brother.

"You okay, Castiel?" he asked softly, his cocky exterior dropped in concern for his little brother.

"Yeah, I'm -" Castiel sighed. "I'm fine."

Gabe nodded and began speaking to Bobby, employing his charm and toothy grins and displaying magic tricks and fluttering his wings. Eventually, he poked Castiel until he displayed his own, and out of the corner of his eye, Castiel could see Sam grinning and nudging the man next to him, who he seemed to be close with. The other performer smirked a little, but it wasn't malicious, or at least Castiel hoped it wasn't. There was something in his eyes that told him that. Castiel couldn't name it if he was asked, but he could tell. Somehow, he just knew.

He tried, but he couldn't quite pay attention to Gabriel's negotiating, too distracted by the side-eyes and the whispered conversation happening to the right of him, so quiet that it was barely there. Sam was hissing something to the other man, who grinned and looked up at him with an expression of real emotion.

Castiel's fourth huge mistake was his next thought. _Oh_ , he thought, glancing down at the ground.  _They're together._

He supposed that the social taboo of homosexuality would be more acceptable in the circus. He'd actually been looking forward to having some marginal amount of freedom to be more himself in this place, where people wouldn't stare at his wings or make him feel like he wasn't a person. Castiel hadn't realized this, but if this was a place where all differences were accepted, then he... maybe he didn't have to hide anymore.

Because it was bad enough that he had been born with a biological defect that made him unable to be seen as anything but a freak, but it was worse that he was apparently sick in the head for being queer.

So no, Castiel didn't have a problem with Sam and whoever the other performer was, in fact, he was glad to know that it was acceptable for this kind of relationship here. It was safe here. But that was a small victory compared to... no, he was stupid, this was fine. He shouldn't be complaining.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't been paying any attention whatsoever to the conversation that had been happening until Gabriel shoved him, hissing, "Bro, pay attention!"

"I - I'm sorry, what?" Castiel stuttered, blushing.

Sam laughed, a kind and full laugh, but Castiel didn't mind. He liked Sam.

Bobby's mouth twitched a little, and Castiel relaxed marginally. "I asked how you two felt about doing an act. Your brother would be taking over the magic department; our last magician retired recently and he's the best candidate we have at the moment. What do you think, kid?"

"Um," Castiel said, trying to ignore the feeling of every eye in the room being on him. "I don't... I don't really have any talents, sir."

Gabe scoffed. Sam stood up from his leaning position, gesturing towards Castiel. "Wait, Castiel... didn't Gabriel say that you were flexible?"

Castiel blushed but forced himself to look at Sam. "Yes. I'm, as he would say, 'surprisingly flexible'."

And that was his fifth mistake.

Bobby hummed thoughtfully. After a moment, he said, "How would you feel about working the silks with Dean?"


	4. Chapter 4

It was a joke. It was a fucking joke.

Were they messing with his head? Dean kicked at Lilith's cat (God, he  _hated_ that thing), as he walked out of the tent, not caring that he missed.

He did the silks. That was  _his_  show. It was the one thing that he could have for his own, everything else he willingly shared with Sam and the others. Well, most of the others. But this? Really?

Sam had come in, forced Bobby to close out the fight with Ruby, making Dean lose rehearsal time, and then he'd brought in the two new men. New wasn't the problem. Wings weren't the problem. Gabriel wasn't the problem.

Castiel was the problem.

Castiel, that quiet boy with the dark messy hair and the wings and the low fucking gravel voice that made Dean shiver. That stupid, stupid, stupid thing called emotion was worming its way out of the deep parts of Dean's gut, and that was stupid, he didn't  _ever_ want to lose his focus.

Castiel, the new kid, was the problem.

Bobby had said that neither Castiel nor Gabriel would be performing any time soon, and had asked Sam to show them around. Ordinarily, Dean would tag along, but today... no. He needed time alone.

He wandered for so long that he found himself outside of Pam's tent. He didn't normally come to the front of the park, with his performances being in the main tent, but today, he needed to talk to someone. And even though he knew that she'd tell him precisely the opposite of what he wanted to hear, she was always right.

Dean pushed the flap open, shoving his way inside and sputtering indignantly at the beads that fell in his face. "Son of a bitch," he snarled, smacking them away and only managing to hit his nose. "Son of a  _bitch_!"

The curtains in the back parted, and Pam came out, holding a box of decorations in her arms. "You okay, Dean?" she asked in a distracted tone.

"Shit, Pam," he said, falling dramatically into her poofy chair that she sat in while performing seances and other phony acts. They always had a good laugh about it afterward, flicking the lights over dramatically and making the fog machine go nuts.

"Get out of my chair!" she said, kicking his bare feet from under her skirts and bustling past him to go hang more fabrics against the walls. "Are you still angry at Ruby? She just wants to get the cats ready for the show."

"Fuck those cats," Dean groaned, his arm thrown over his eyes. Normally, he'd watch his language around a lady, but there were a few exceptions, Pam, Jo and Charlie being three of them. "Fuck those stupid cats and that stupid bitch. No," he said, looking out at her from between his fingers, her eyebrows raised at him. "No, it's the new meat that Sam brought through."

He told her about the brothers, about Gabriel and about his magic tricks and about his quiet younger brother. He didn't want to talk about Castiel and his huge eyes and his deep voice and his fucking  _incredible_ wings, so he ranted more than was necessary about the injustice of his solo being taken from him and about how this was  _his_ act and about how the kid probably didn't even know the first thing about silks, the only reason that Bobby told him to work with Dean was because he was  _flexible._  (And Dean definitely didn't want to talk about the thoughts that sneaked, unbidden, into his brain at the mention of flexible Castiel and his messy hair and gravel voice.)

He finished, looking over at her, and was surprised to see that her arms were crossed, presumably in irritation.

"What?" he asked sharply.

"He's not a kid, Dean. He's an adult and a human being and you have no right to talk about him like he's any less than you."

Dean paused. "...what?"

She sighed, shooting him a bitchy expression. "Look, I'm no idiot, Dean. I know what you thought about him. You wouldn't look at me when I asked what he looked like, and you stuttered when you described him." Dean stared at her, an incredulous expression crawling onto his face, and Pam raised her hands in a sort of helpless gesture. "Hey, I read people for a living, honey. But look, he's not a kid. Everyone's got shit they'd rather not talk about, and if his is bigger baggage than yours, then you don't have a right to expect him to be nearly as animated as his brother. You deal with it by throwing yourself into your work, but you're still not over your mom and you're still not okay with having to leave home with Sam in the middle of the night. Maybe Castiel just deals with it by not talking about it. You never know."

Dean sighed, sinking further into the chair. "Yeah. Damn it, Pam, you're right. You're always right." He stood and began to walk towards the entrance of the tent. "You're a fucking genius, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Bobby would've kicked you off the stage years ago," she said affectionately, turning slightly as he bent and kissed her on the cheek. "Now get out of here, Ruby's probably done with the cats by now."

He shot her a quick grin and ducked out of the door, beginning his sprint back to the big top.

 

"So, we're actually a little short on tents right now, seeing how we lost two in that fire incident last month. You two are gonna have to room with someone until we get some more accommodations," Sam explained, walking backwards through the residential section of the tents.

It was fairly quiet; most of the performers were either practicing, preparing for the night's show, or out seeing the current city while they had the time. Castiel felt an overwhelming gratitude to Sam as he gave up his afternoon of freedom to show them the ropes.

Sam stopped in front of a smallish tent that had colorful patchwork peppering the outside. Looking back, he noticed that Gabriel was gone. "Looks like we lost your brother."

Castiel nodded. "He does that. He'll be back before long, but he likes to find his own way."

"Well, okay then," Sam said, pulling open the flap to the tent. "This is mine and Dean's."

Dean.

Castiel didn't want his heart to flutter a little bit at the mention of that name, the name of the man in the tight pants who worked the silks in the main show, but it did. And apparently, Sam shared a tent with him.

"So," Castiel tried, but stopped due to his dry mouth. He cleared his throat and tried again. "So, you and Dean... you're, um, together?"

Sam turned to him so quickly that his hair flew like a dancer's skirt. "Me? And  _Dean_? Oh  _God_ , no! Castiel, he's -" the tall man laughed, "- he's my brother."

"Oh," Castiel said, blushing deeply. "My apologies. I just... I assumed, you seemed so close."

Sam smiled at that, the dimples in his cheeks making him look like a little kid. "Yeah. We are." He gestured to the inside of the tent, and Castiel walked through the entrance. "When we were kids, it was just us. Our mom died when I was a baby and our dad was useless after that. Dean took care of me for as long as I can remember. Then we came here, and we started living, instead of just, you know, surviving."

Castiel looked over at Sam, who was rocking back and forth on his heels in anticipation of Castiel's response. "That's wonderful, Sam," he said, smiling softly. Sam relaxed a little. "Gabriel and I are close for nearly the same reason. And this is a very nice tent. Much nicer than what I'm used to."

"Thanks," Sam said, and Castiel was relieved that he didn't pry.

After a pause, Sam spoke again. "Look... I'm sorry about Dean."

The words seemed so weary, so tired as they tripped their way out of Sam's mouth, and Castiel could tell that they were in frequent use in Sam's vocabulary. "Do you have to say that a lot?" Castiel asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"You have no idea," Sam said, laughing a little, even though there wasn't anything really funny about it. "He's my brother, and I love him, but sometimes he just drives me up the wall. And he's irritable and passionate and he's just a really obstinate dick when it comes to his show. So I'm sorry. He shouldn't have acted the way he did. He's an adult, and what he did was childish."

"It's alright, Sam, really. I know what it's like to constantly apologize for your older brother."

Sam grinned. "Anyway, if you want, I'll introduce you to the rest of the performers? Um, we're all kind of spread out, so we'll be doing a bit of walking, so if you'd rather get settled into a tent now, then we can just meet up with people tonight for dinner."

Usually, this was the part where Gabriel would chime in, easily bringing Castiel away from any difficult questions. But Gabe was gone, and there was no one to save Castiel from talking. He swallowed. "I'd like to meet people," he heard himself say, even though he hadn't meant for that to happen. No, he didn't want to meet people, he wanted to avoid social contact for as long as possible because even though this was going to be his home, he didn't want to belong here.

He didn't want to be a freak. He just wanted to be normal. He just wanted to be a human being.

But Sam grinned, his dimples showing. "Good. It's great that you want to get out there. Look," he said, his voice softening. "I know how hard it is to come into this place and make it feel normal. I had a pretty rough time when Dean and I first came in. But you stick with us, and we'll take care of you." He gestured to the front of the tent. "Come on, I'll show you all of the best people."

Castiel followed Sam to another tent, a little ways closer to the front of the field than Sam's was, poking his head in before letting Castiel enter. "Jess?" he called, the smile in his voice evident. Sam brought his head back out and waved for Castiel to follow him inside.

There was a pretty blonde woman inside of the brightly colored fabric explosion of a tent, and Castiel blinked several times as he entered to help his eyes adjust. Sam put his arm around her, which was almost comical because he seemed so much taller than her. "Castiel, this is my fiancee, Jessica. Jess, this is Castiel."

"It's so nice to meet you, Castiel," she said, smiling at him. He felt himself smile back.

"Hello, Jessica," he said quietly. She stepped forward and took his hand in hers.

"Hey, I know this is overwhelming. I joined three years ago; that's when I met Sam. Look you don't have anything to worry about. You can come and talk to me if you need anything, or if this big idiot," she smiled sunnily at Sam, who was rolling his eyes, "isn't being any help at all."

"Thank you," he said, looking down at her.

"Hey, stop giving me a bad name!" Sam joked indignantly, tugging gently on one of her curls. Castiel ached a little inside at the way she looked over her shoulder at him, the glow coming off of her almost tangible. He wanted that, he wanted to know what it was like to have someone look at him like that, like he was their entire world. He never had that sort of luck, though, and he didn't expect things to be any different here than it was in the rest of the world.

They lived in a world where differences were shut down, and even though Gabriel had tried to convince him that this was a safe haven, Castiel was skeptical. He didn't trust enough to see this as a new start. He wanted to, he did, but an entire life of running and fear doesn't dissolve after a safe night's sleep.

Castiel was shaken from his thoughts when Sam and Jess began to beckon him out of the tent, drawing him into the movement and excitement that was the circus. He became entranced by the dynamics of the place, and names and faces flew past him so quickly that he couldn't remember, just the vague impression of a quick smile or a confused glance. He was surprised; he didn't ever expect to feel so at home in this topsy-turvy place, but he did, he didn't want to leave, he was surprised at how much he loved it, but he wouldn't give it up any time soon. Gabe was right, Castiel thought to himself, the corner of his mouth turning up a little. Gabe was right, but that didn't mean he had to know that. Castiel was content with the knowledge that maybe this place could be good to them.

Eventually, they took him to a cramped tent full of laughing people, the smell of food weaving through the air. Sam nudged him with his elbow and directed Castiel towards the buffet line, and once they had gotten bowls of soup, he guided the smaller man towards the far wall. Jessica had disappeared to chat with some friends, but Sam didn't seem at all concerned. Castiel looked towards where Sam was leading them, and nearly stopped in his tracks.

Sam looked behind him, concerned, and grabbed Castiel's sleeve. It was too loud to really hear what he was saying, but Castiel could tell that Sam was trying to get him to come over there. He thought he could make out Sam's mouth saying  _don't worry, it's okay_ , but he didn't think he could  _not_ worry,  _he_ was there, and he would make Castiel uncomfortable again after he'd just become settled in this new environment. Damn it, Dean made everything worse.

Still, Castiel let himself get tugged over to the wall by Sam, who was obviously saying words of encouragement that Castiel couldn't hear. They reached Dean, who had just been talking to a short, red-headed woman who looked like she would get along well with Gabriel. Dean looked up as Sam came closer, flashing his brother a quick grin. "How's Charlie?" Sam asked, glancing after the woman.

"Good, as usual. She's pissed because of the stage direction. Lighting's acting up again." Dean's brilliant, brilliant green eyes slid past Sam to lock onto Castiel's face, and his eyebrows dropped down a little. "Castiel," he said, nodding slightly, his voice dipping to a dangerously low pitch that made Castiel's breath catch a little in his throat.

"Dean," he replied evenly, and Sam glanced between them, eyebrows raised.

"You could at least act like you like each other," he scoffed, shoving Castiel towards Dean gently. "Come on, you're going to be working together, just play nice, okay?" Both of the shorter men turned to glare at Sam, who seemed to be biting back a grin. He stepped back, lifting his hands in the air in an innocent gesture. "I gotta go find Jess. Have fun!"

They looked after Sam as he dashed off through the crowd, and Castiel directed his attention back to Dean again. The other man slowly turned to look at him, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He'd changed out of his stage clothes, Castiel noticed, and was wearing a dark green button down shirt open over a dark undershirt, and a pair of dark pants tucked into black leather boots. He had some sort of necklace resting on his chest, but when Castiel tried to get a better look at it, Dean spoke.

"So, Cas," he began, and Castiel's heart jumped at being referred to with a nickname, sensing the almost affectionate current running through Dean's tone. He was irritated and resentful, but there was something else underneath it. "You wanna get out of here?"

Castiel blinked, hard. "Excuse me?"

Dean ducked his head, his cheekbones tinged a soft red. "No, I didn't mean... shit. I just wanted to know if you wanted to see the silks."

"Oh," Castiel said, his eyes following Dean as he brought his head back up. "Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you, Dean."

The right corner of Dean's mouth turned up a little at that, and he gestured for Castiel to follow him as they made their way out of the tent. "You're welcome, Cas."


	5. Chapter 5

Cas.

He'd called him  _Cas._

Where the hell did that come from? Dean avoided looking at the other man as he led the way outside, a few steps ahead of him. He could tell that Cas was following him, but he didn't look back to see how closely.

"Dean!" he heard, and he spun around.

"Yeah?" he asked, looking over at Cas.

Cas stepped closer, ducking his head slightly. Dean watched him edge nearer, shyly stepping close enough so that Dean could see his face and they could speak without having to call back to each other. He noticed how Cas kept his wings tucked tightly against his body, never letting them relax. Gabriel had been the opposite, everything about him loose and flowing, letting the wings stretch to freedom as he displayed them in the tent.

But Castiel, shy and quiet, didn’t allow himself to have that flexibility. Dean couldn’t explain why, but something about that made him sad.

The night wind ruffled the tiny feathers on the joints of Cas’ wings. “Where are we going?” he asked quietly, flicking his soft blue eyes up to Dean’s face quickly and then dropping his gaze. Dean was sure that he didn’t mean to make it seductive, but it was, oh, it made Dean shiver like nothing else.

Shit. He didn’t need this. He swallowed the feeling and leaned back a little, his own eyes dropping down to Cas’ lips as he licked his own, clearing his throat before saying, “Uh, to the main tent. I thought you knew that’s where we do the silks. I, uh, if you want, I can show you one of my routines? Just – just so you’ll know what to expect.”

“Thank you,” Cas said, smiling a little, and Dean backed up, beginning to walk towards the big top again.

"So, uh, it's this way. Sam gave you the tour, right?"

"Yes. He was very helpful."

"Good," Dean said, looking off to the side a little, grinning. "So, Cas... what made you and Gabe decide to come to the circus?"

He glanced at Cas out of the corner of his eye; they were walking side by side now. Castiel visibly stiffened, taking a deep breath and clamping his lips shut. “Dean, I –” he began, tugging at one of his sleeves. “I don’t – I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dean’s eyebrows dropped; that just made him want to know more, but he didn’t say that. “Sorry, man, I didn’t know. You don’t have to talk about it,” he said, patting Cas’ shoulder in what he hoped was a platonic gesture.

"Thank you, Dean."

Dean. Castiel kept saying his name. He supposed that if it were anyone else, the frequent use of his name would have bothered him. _That’s my name, don’t wear it out_ , he’d have snarked, flashing them a shit-eating grin and effectively shutting them up.

But Cas... he didn't want to shut Cas up.

It wasn’t like he _liked_ the kid or anything, that would be stupid. He just – he was just trying to do what Sam had said, to be _nice_ to him. It was obvious that no one had really treated Castiel like he was worth anything for his entire life, he had the idea in his head that no one cared and that he didn’t deserve anything more than what he’d already gotten. Dean just wanted to make sure that Cas was treated like a person, that he didn’t shut everyone out because he got the same reaction in here as he did in the rest of the world. It wasn’t his fault that he had wings coming out of his back. In all honesty, he thought it was pretty cool.

He just wanted to be nice to Cas. It _definitely_ wasn’t because he liked the way Castiel said his name or anything. He didn’t like the way Cas’ mouth curved around the single syllable, the way he breathed it out like it had so much meaning, how he said that single word, _Dean_ , as though it meant the world. No, Dean didn’t not want Cas to shut up and stop overusing his name because he definitely didn’t get a little turned on by the way the kid’s gravelly voice made his name sound like something beyond the ordinary, the way it seemed like more than just a word.

No, Dean didn't think that, because that would be stupid.

Dean cleared his throat, and gestured for Castiel to follow him around a curve in the path. He nudged him with his elbow, gently bumping him as they walked towards the desired tent. “Hey, I don’t want to pry, but how old are you?”

“Twenty-four,” came the gentle reply, and Dean smiled involuntarily. “What, is this an interview or something? I thought I already finished that,” he continued.

Dean laughed. “No, I just… that part wasn’t in it. I’m just trying to get to know you, man.”

He could hear the smile in Cas’ voice when he replied, “I understand. So I hope you don’t mind when I ask you the same question.”

“I’m twenty-six,” he said, grinning when Cas bumped him back. “Favorite color?”

"Green. You?"

"Blue."

"What's your last name?" Cas said suddenly, and Dean turned to look at him, a little shocked.

"What, Sammy never told you?" he asked, wrinkling his eyebrows. Cas shook his head. "Our last name's Winchester."

"Dean Winchester," Cas repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like a wave. "I like it."

"Thanks," Dean replied. "I didn't pick it, so I guess you can thank my parents for how nice it sounds."

Shit. He mentioned parents. He knew what Cas was going to ask next, shit, shit, shit -

Castiel sounded hesitant when he began speaking again, after Dean had grabbed his elbow to tug him in the right direction and let go extremely quickly. “Sam – Sam mentioned something about how you grew up here. What happened?”

“What, Sam didn’t tell you?” Dean replied sharply, almost snarling at Cas, who seemed to shrink back.

"I wanted to hear it from you," he said softly, and Dean didn't ask why.

He sighed. “My mom died when I was four. Sammy was six months old. I took care of him until he was six, because my dad was a lazy ass deadbeat who couldn’t get his shit together after we lost her. So when the circus came through Lawrence, we left. That’s all there is to it.”

Dean glanced at Cas, who had become subdued. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, not looking at Dean. “I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Dean said, a little more harshly than he’d been intending. His voice sounded ragged, he hated that, he didn’t want Castiel to think he was mad at him. “Don’t apologize for wanting to know something, don’t you ever think that you can’t know something.”

“Dean,” Cas said quietly, turning away from him. Dean grabbed his elbow and spun him around. Cas’ breath caught in his throat as he looked up slightly to lock his eyes on Dean’s.

“Don’t _ever_ think that you’re not worth it, okay?” Dean nearly whispered, his voice a low hum.

“D-dean, I’m, I’m not, I’m just not, I don’t know why you think that, I’m just _me,_ I’m not anything special, I –”

“Shut up,” Dean snapped, releasing his hold on Cas’ arm. “You shut up because you’re worth something. Everyone is. So just shut up and let me take you to see the silks.”

“Why do you care so much?” Castiel whispered, his eyes huge in the moonlight. Dean pursed his lips and frowned.

“Because I do. People deserve to know that they’re worth something. So don’t you apologize for wanting to know something, because you’ve been shut down for your entire life and you deserve to be given answers for once.” Dean looked intently at Castiel, who breathed in sharply.

"Dean, I -"

"Shut up," Dean replied, but more softly this time, and he grabbed Cas' arm again. "Come on, we're almost there."

Cas let Dean lead him into the big top, his hand still firmly clamped on the other man’s arm, dragging him through the tent flaps and into a darkened arena. Dean knew his way around here like it was his house; he’d spent his entire teenage years in this arena. He stepped forward, letting go of Castiel, and began to move towards the ladders that led to the ceiling.

“ _Dean_!” he heard, and he spun around, looking for Cas. “Dean, I can’t see anything!”

He almost laughed, but stopped himself. “Hey, Cas, it’s okay. I’m right here,” Dean called, stretching out his hands and ending up palming Cas’ nose. “Sorry,” he said, moving his hands to the sides of Cas’ face instead. _He has really soft hair_ , Dean registered, but shut that thought off.

Cas’ hand reached up to blindly grope at Dean’s left, gripping his fingers tightly. “Where are we going?” he whispered, and judging from the proximity of his voice, the two of them were less than a foot apart.

“Up the ladder and onto the catwalk. It’s to the right. Why are you whispering?” Dean replied, his voice dropped to a low volume as well. He removed his hands from Cas’ face, slowly, so that he wouldn’t be worried from the sudden loss of contact, letting the smaller man continue to hold his fingers.

“I don’t know. It just seems like the kind of place that makes you want to be quiet.” Dean could sense Castiel tipping his head back to look up at the sloping ceiling. “The kind of place that you can feel the hush of the performers, like it’s sacred. I don’t want to disturb the atmosphere.”

Dean became aware that his jaw had dropped, and he closed it before Castiel could notice.

Wings, gravelly voice, messy hair, and the ability to speak poetry in normal conversation. Castiel was something else. He was something else that Dean didn’t think he could handle.

He cleared his throat. “Well, uh, I don’t know about that, but it’s usually pretty loud in here when the show starts. Quiet during my solo, but that’s just the thing about silks. No one talks while I’m up there.”

Dean started to move, and Cas tightened his grip on his hand, following closely behind him. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was something comforting, sweet, and almost magical about holding someone’s hand in the darkness. It was like they were there for each other, Cas’ fingers intertwined with his in almost an embrace, even though Dean could sense the slight terror running through him and the absolute trust he was placing in Dean in this moment. He didn’t want to admit it, but he _liked_ holding Cas’ hand; his fingers were long and thin, fingers that made Dean think of piano playing and braiding hair and making flower crowns in the summer. He held Dean’s hand in a strong grip, he wasn’t at all delicate, but the way he held on made Dean feel needed, which was something that he hadn’t felt since Sammy had been sixteen and insecure. But Castiel, Castiel was something new and different and he made Dean feel needed and this is what he got from being nice to the new kid, this is why he wasn’t nice to people, because he would get close to them, and getting close to them was the problem.

He couldn't quite bring himself to drop Cas' hand though.

They reached the ladder leading up to the catwalk, and Dean stopped, Castiel running into him slightly, his chest bumping into Dean’s shoulder. “Sorry,” he breathed, his breath tickling Dean’s ear and the vibrations of his voice transferring into Dean’s body from the contact that Castiel had accidentally maintained.

“S’okay,” Dean choked, clearing his throat again. “I, uh, I think you should go first, just in case you fall. I can catch you.”

"I have wings, Dean."

“Oh. Right.” He could feel himself blushing, but he ignored it. “So, uh, do you want me to go first?”

“No, that’s alright,” Cas said, releasing his tight grip on Dean’s hand. “I think I can manage to climb a ladder by myself.”

He moved in front of Dean to grip the ladder, a little unsteady at first. Dean automatically reached out to help him, but Castiel smacked his hand away. “I’m _fine_ , Dean,” he snapped, and Dean backed off.

Dean didn’t really notice anything until Cas was already a few rungs up the ladder, but there was an ass right in his face. He hadn’t thought about it before, especially because Cas’ wings had been covering his entire back and most of his lower body, but as he spread his wings for balance, accompanied by a soft rustling, he unintentionally revealed that he actually had a really nice looking ass.

Oh, no. This was definitely not good.

Once Castiel was up another few rungs, Dean started to climb, focusing directly on the bars in front of him so that he would look anywhere, at anything other than at the man in front of him. Cas climbed fairly quickly, so he reached the top pretty easily, giving Dean some wiggle room. It was actually a relief to not have to worry about staring, but that ass… Dean shook off the thoughts and boosted himself onto the catwalk.

Cas stood up against the rail, looking out over the dark tent, his wings still held aloft in an almost careless gesture. He looked like something out of a fairy tale, the feathers outlined in an inky silhouette from the minimal light leaking in. Dean stopped for a minute, about to stand up from his crouch, and took in the sight. It was beautiful, he thought, wings on a human being. Maybe if they all had wings, and had to worry about catching them on things and knocking into people and using them for extra balance, they’d all be as humble and as quiet and as serene as Cas. Maybe this shit world would be a better place if they were all a little more like Cas.

But of course, that wasn't the way it was. Gabriel was the prime example of that.

“Are you coming?” Castiel asked, not turning around to look at Dean. Dean realized that he was still in his crouched position and straightened quickly.

“Yeah,” he said, walking over to stand next to Cas at the rail. “I can turn on the lights from up here, did you want that?”

“Alright,” he breathed, still not looking at Dean, who backed up and switched on one of the spotlights. Without Charlie to move it, it just pointed up at the ceiling in a bland white light that caught the darkness of Cas’ wings and outlined them against the wall. It caught the edges of his hair just right too, making the wild curls and tufts glow around the outlines and causing him to look like he had a halo.

Dean walked over to the other side of the catwalk, where the silks were rolled. He glanced behind him, but Castiel was too transfixed by the tent to see what he was doing. Dean went through his usual routine of setting everything up, his hands moving in an automatic motion. Eventually, everything was set up, and he looked over to Cas, who had his eyes fixed on him.

He cleared his throat. “So, uh, if you wanna watch, this is what I usually do. I can do my solo for you, if you’d like?”

Cas nodded. “I would love to see it. Thank you.” He sat on the edge of the catwalk with his wings spread gingerly behind him for balance and his legs dangling off the edge. Dean hooked his hands and feet in the silk and began.


	6. Chapter 6

Two hours later, Castiel stumbled into the tent that he and Gabriel were going to be sharing. His brother looked up as he entered, his legs tucked underneath him as he perched on the bed. "Hey, where've you been, Cassie? I didn't even see you at dinner."

Cas flopped onto the tiny bed opposite to Gabriel's, throwing his hand over his face. He flinched as Gabe threw something (a shoe?) at him. " _Gabe_ ," he whined, waving his hand vaguely in his brother's general direction. He heard a laugh.

"Seriously, what's with you, Castiel?" A hand poked him in the ribs. "You usually never leave me, what's going on?" Castiel parted his fingers to peek out at Gabriel, who was leaning uncomfortably close.

"Nothing, Gabe, I'm fine," he replied, and the scoff that followed told him that Gabriel didn't believe him in the slightest.

"Come on,  _tell_ me," his brother needled, poking at Castiel insistently. "You're never like this, what happened with Dean?"

Cas dropped his hand from his face at that, and Gabe smirked. He tilted his head to look at Castiel evenly, and Cas stared back at him.

"Oh, so something happened with  _Dean_ , did it?"

"Nothing happened," Castiel said, waving Gabe off and hitting him in the face. His brother flopped backwards, tucking his legs back onto his bed. "Why the hell would you assume that something would have happened?"

"Because you like him," Gabriel said simply, and Cas jerked, turning quickly to look at his brother, his heart scudding in his chest. "It's okay, little brother," he continued, smiling a little bit. "I know. I've known for a long time."

Castiel turned away, his face flushing. "Why didn't you tell me that you knew? It would have saved a lot of trouble."

"I was waiting until the time was right," Gabe replied, reaching out with his toe and nudging the small of Castiel's back. "You weren't gonna ever say anything because you thought I would be ashamed of you, but you're my little brother and you're all I got. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you, Gabriel," Cas said, still facing the wall of the tent.

"Anytime," his brother answered, in one of his rare serious moods, and Castiel could hear him leave the tent. He rolled on his back, one hand tucked underneath the pillow and the other resting on his stomach.

Dean. What had happened with Dean?

They'd been in the tent, his legs swinging off of the catwalk while Dean hooked his limbs into the silks and began his routine. He was fearless, confident; he made Cas wish that he could do the same thing. Dean had twisted himself through the fabrics, making the way he moved look like he was walking on something tangible, but it was just the air, he was grace embodied and a poem personified. He hadn't set up a record or anything, so the arena was completely silent except for the sounds of the fabric rustling and their quiet breaths. By this time, night had completely fallen, and Cas tore his eyes off of Dean for half a second to glance up at the stars peeking in through the roof of the tent.

"Hey," he heard, and he locked his eyes back onto Dean, who had stopped his routine and was swinging upside down, smirking at Castiel. "You paying attention? I expect you to be able to do this by next week."

Cas blinked at him, eyes widening. "Are you serious?"

Dean snorted. "Hah. Of course not." He pulled himself into a right side up position, legs twined in the ropes and swinging slightly, staring at Castiel. "What did you think?"

What was he supposed to say?  _Wow, Dean, you're really good! I wish I was as cool as you because you look so aesthetically pleasing when you wear those tight pants!_ No. That wasn't happening. Especially because Dean didn't need his ego any more inflated than it already was.

He cleared his throat anyway, forcing himself to look away from Dean's grin. "You're very talented," he said honestly, and Dean ducked his head.

"Thanks, man. I worked hard on it." He increased his swing until he was close enough to land on the catwalk again. "I've always wanted to try this. Hey, grab my legs, okay?"

"What?" Cas asked sharply, but Dean was already moving.

It wasn't like he had much of a choice, so he grabbed Dean's legs as he came closer. What he didn't know was that Dean was going to let go.

Laughing, Dean rocketed off the silks and onto Castiel, unintentionally knocking him backwards and landing on top of him. Cas' legs had been hanging off the edge, so when Dean flew forward, his hips ended up right around Cas' ribcage, his legs on either side of him. Cas didn't quite registed this fact for a few seconds; the wind had been knocked out of him by Dean's impact and he had automatically tucked his wings forward to avoid hurting them. Blinking hard, he stared up at the ceiling, or what little he could see of it, as most of it was blocked out by a freckled shoulder.

"Oops," he heard, the vibration of Dean's laughter rumbling through his chest. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Castiel replied, a little shell shocked, slightly muffled by Dean's shoulder. Dean sat up again, hands braced on either side of Cas, looking down at him from his sitting position. He was straddling Castiel's chest, his muscular legs in very noticeable contact with his body, and the night sky haloed around his head in a tiny smattering of stars that mirrored the freckles dancing across his nose. His green eyes were intense, locked onto Cas' face, and his eyebrows dropped a little bit, as though he was about to say something. Castiel registered that he had automatically loosely enveloped Dean with his wings, which partly protected them from impact but also sheltered Dean from anything that could be coming from behind. The feathers made a bizarre design behind him, but Cas felt like he belonged there. It was like finding the perfect spot for something in your house: you didn't know it fit there until you nestled it into that niche, but as soon as it was there, you couldn't imagine it anywhere else.

He was hyper aware of the spot where Dean's cock made contact with his body.

The entire encounter probably only lasted a few seconds, but to Cas it seemed uncomfortably long. Dean cleared his throat and quickly clambered off of him. "Sorry," he breathed, standing. He extended a hand to help Cas get up, which he kind of resented, but took anyway. Dean hauled him to his feet, and their hands remained touching for maybe a second more than was strictly necessary.

It wasn't that he was stuck in Dean's gaze or anything, that would be cliche and frankly embarrassing. It was more that Castiel was waiting for Dean to say something, and Dean seemed to be looking for the same thing.

It ended when Cas choked out, "Thanks."

Dean cleared his throat and ducked his head. "You - uh, you're welcome."

They separated, beginning the walk back to the ladder, Dean eventually having to run back to turn off the light, which he had forgotten about. They made their way down the ladder slowly, Cas descending first and using his wings for balance, glancing up occasionally to make sure that Dean wasn't falling to his death. Dean seemed to have a death wish, what with the ridiculous endeavors that he did and the dangers of his career, but Castiel concluded that it was a little hypocritical for him to say that, because he was the one who was going to be learning the silks too.

He stepped off the ladder and backed up, still watching Dean descend. "You clear?" he called, and Cas nodded, stepping back further.

"There's enough room for you to jump, if that's what you mean," he said, and Dean laughed, pushing off the ladder and jumping the last few feet to land surprisingly close to Cas.

"Yeah, that's what I meant," he chuckled, and Castiel could barely see any of his face in the light leaking in through the tent flaps. "Can you see enough to get back out, or do you need my help again?"

Castiel was fairly sure that Dean did not mean to make it sound that suggestive, but his voice had dropped in that question and had become noticeably more breathy. He could hear him breathing, and Cas' chest tightened in response. "I - I'm not sure," he stuttered, and Dean reached out a little bit, hands touching his shoulders.

"Shoulders, there we go," he said, and Cas could hear the laugh in his voice. "Okay, I'm gonna spin you," Dean continued, and Castiel followed as Dean moved him, eventually loosening the tightness in his body as Dean's hand slid down his arm and grabbed his hand. "Come on, I'll lead you out."

"Can you even see anything?" Cas asked softly, and he could tell that Dean was smirking as he replied.

"Nah, I just know where I'm going. Come on, just a little farther," he said, rubbing his thumb lightly on the back of Cas' hand. It was a gentle movement, a soft caress, one that Cas had not been expecting, but even the fact that Dean had insisted on lacing his fingers through Castiel's as they walked, the pressure of his hand constant and sweet, comforting in the navigation through the darkness. Cas knew that if and when Dean let go his hands would be shaking, but he didn't care. He latched tighter onto Dean as they wove around the stands, and Dean pushed open the flap to the outside.

The night was quiet, and nearly all of the lights were out. Dean stopped just outside of the tent and turned to Cas, their hands still loosely linked. He paused, swallowing hard. "You know where to find your tent?" Cas shook his head, and in the dim light he could see the corner of Dean's mouth turning up a little bit. "That's okay, I'll show you."

He began to lead the way to the residential section, glancing around nervously, but keeping his grip on Castiel's hand. It was like trying to sneak into your room with a girl without your parents noticing, Cas thought, not that he'd ever experienced that. Firstly, because of the girl thing, and secondly because of the parent thing. Sneaking a girl into your room implies some kind of family life, which was one aspect of childhood that he and Gabe had never had the luxury of experiencing.

In any case, Castiel could tell that Dean was being cautious if solely for the reason that he wanted to hold his hand, but he didn't want anyone else to see. Walking slightly behind Dean, Cas frowned a little, but that dissolved when Dean nudged him lightly.

"Hey, I'm sorry about the shit I gave you earlier," he said, not looking at Cas.

"It's okay."

"It's not."

They walked in silence for a minute, and Castiel kept telling himself that he'd untangle his fingers from Dean's, that he'd stop this before something started that he couldn't control, he'd just get hurt and that wasn't worth opening himself up, he didn't need this right now, all he and Gabe were looking for was a home. He kept trying to convince himself that the way Dean's fingers made him feel was a bad thing, that the little tingles of warmth dancing through his skin was wrong, that Dean shouldn't make him feel this way and that the jumping of his heart when Dean spoke was the complete opposite of what he should be feeling. Cas kept trying to tell himself that this wasn't what should be happening and that he needed to put a stop to it right now, but he couldn't bring himself to untwine their fingers and he couldn't force himself to let go of Dean.

Meanwhile, Dean was chatting aimlessly, pointing out important landmarks that Cas had paid absolutely no attention to and making references to things that he didn't understand. "You probably already saw, but that's mine and Sammy's tent, if you ever need either of us," he said, pointing with his right hand, his left still wrapped in Castiel's.

It was funny, Castiel thought, neither of them had commented on it. If one of them were a woman, it was likely that whoever it was would have been offended by this contact, and as they were both men, wasn't it logical that they should both be uncomfortable with hand holding? Men didn't hold hands, they rarely touched except to shake at the beginning and ending of encounters. Women linked arms when they walked sometimes, but it wasn't as though they held hands while they were walking. Hand holding was for people who were affectionate, hand holding was for people who were attracted to each other, hand holding was for lovers.

It was funny, but the strange kind of funny, that neither he nor Dean had commented on the hand holding. Dean just hadn't let go after they got out of the tent, and in fact, it was a little odd that they had linked hands like that in the darkness to begin with - Gabe would have just grabbed his elbow and tugged him forward, and Sam would have hovered around his shoulder and directed him with minimal touching. But Dean...

Dean had taken his hand gently, timidly, letting the pads of his fingers stroke softly over Cas' palm, moving so that their fingers were intertwined, and occasionally rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand, the motion comforting and gentle.

That... that didn't happen.

He didn't complain, though, and he didn't let go, Dean leading him through the maze of tents, sometimes leaning in a little closer to Cas as he pointed at something, always keeping their voices on the low side to avoid bothering anyone. Castiel guessed that it was about nine in the evening, and that they had eaten at around seven. Eventually, Dean stopped in front of a small, two person tent that had a little light pouring out from the flaps.

"Well, uh, this is you, I guess," Dean said, ducking his head a little, turning to face Cas outside of the tent. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked, his fingers still lingering around Castiel's.

"Of course," he said, smiling softly. "Are you performing tomorrow night?"

"Yeah," Dean said, glancing off. "Yeah, and you're training."

"Well," he replied, looking down. "I'm sure you're a wonderful teacher."

Dean grinned. "Sammy always told me I was too mean. I bet you can handle it, though. I'll go easy on you," he raised his eyebrows a little, "you know, since it's your first day."

"Thank you, Dean."

"You're welcome," he said gently, slowly dropping Castiel's hand. "I, uh," Dean continued, beginning to walk away, "I'll see you tomorrow." He grinned at Cas one last time and jogged off towards his tent.

Sighing, Cas had backed through the tent flaps and collapsed on his bed, getting a shoe thrown at him and causing him to recall it all over again.

All things considered, it wasn't a bad night, though he was positive that he didn't need this right now. What the hell had been wrong with him? He'd tried, but he couldn't make himself let go of Dean. What was that all about? Cas shook his head, staring at the ceiling, his arm draped over his forehead. This was going to cause a mess, he could tell.

Across two rows of tents, Dean ducked into his and Sam's tent, avoiding his brother's gaze. "Hey," Sam said, looking up from his knives as Dean entered. "Where were you?"

"Showing Cas the silks," Dean said absently, pulling off his shirt and preparing to climb into his bed. He could feel Sam's eyes on him as he purposely ignored his brother's gaze. Looking back at Sam, Dean sighed exasperatedly. "What?"

"It's Cas now, is it?"

Dean loved his brother a lot, but in that minute, he was ready to punch the stupid smirk right off Sam's face. "You can shut up," he snarled, throwing his shirt into the pile of his clothes at the back of the tent. He could hear Sam laughing as he did so. "Just shut up, Sammy," he growled, shutting off the lamp and leaving Sam to chuckle in the darkness.

Shit. Dean didn't need this right now, he didn't need Cas and his blue eyes and the way he looked at the tent in wonder and the way his gaze followed Dean as he performed. He didn't need Cas' attention because he hadn't been able to concentrate for long enough to finish, it didn't make him nervous at all to work in front of people but Cas had made him antsy and he had to stop moving until he had those blue eyes focused on his face.

Dean didn't need this right now, but it wasn't like he could ignore the stupid way he'd held Cas' hand, the way he didn't let go or the way he had kept fucking  _nudging_ him like he was a teenager on a date. He didn't need that and he didn't need his feelings right now and he definitely didn't need to be feeling this way about a man, but it was happening. He couldn't really control it and he fucking hated his stupid emotions, but that was what was going on and he guessed that if anyone was going to have this amount of shitty luck of course it was going to be him.

"Shit," he hissed into his pillow, and he thought he heard Sam snort from across the room. "Shit, shit, shit."

Shit, because there were butterflies blooming in his stomach when he thought of Cas and that was shit, that was not good at all, and shit, because he hadn't felt that for a long time, and shit, because he had no desire to feel that again after the shitty way it had ended before.

Shit, because love was the last thing he wanted on his mind right now and shit, because Cas was the only thing on his mind right now.

Shit. This wasn't at all good.


End file.
